It was about a week before Halloween when I started feeling as if I were running late for Christmas. We were in the mall, picking up trick-or-treat candy, and the place was already getting decorated for the holidays.

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By Lisa Ramirez

recordonline.com

By Lisa Ramirez

Posted Nov. 18, 2012 at 2:00 AM

By Lisa Ramirez

Posted Nov. 18, 2012 at 2:00 AM

» Social News

It was about a week before Halloween when I started feeling as if I were running late for Christmas. We were in the mall, picking up trick-or-treat candy, and the place was already getting decorated for the holidays.

A flash of panic struck me. Christmas is almost here, and here I am, with no plan, no pile of cookie recipes, no shopping list, no schematic to decorate our tree or, for that matter, a tree. After the panic came an urge to get started, maybe pick up wrapping paper. Cards. A keepsake ornament. Then came guilt, that here it was, almost Christmas, and I was clearly about to blow it. I mean, I haven't even asked my kid what she wants. I haven't even figured out who's coming for Thanksgiving.

This happens to me every year, and always right about now. Last year I swore it would never happen again. Sure, it might be too late to save Holiday 2011 (or 2010, or 2009) what with Christmas only two months away. So I'd promise myself that next year I would:

Begin holiday planning way, way ahead, with a brand new calendar in January in which I'd plot out Holiday 2012 with surgical precision. I will compose this calendar while on a treadmill, since I will embark on a new fitness regime. You know, in January.

Address Christmas cards and plan menus in August, while keeping on eye on Bella and Donald as they swim in the pool.

Pick up gifts at all those great outdoor craft fairs.

Make stockings, a tree skirt and a Pinterest-y wreath maybe in early September, and stock up on baking supplies.

Wrap everything on Veterans Day.

Put the tree up on Black Friday.

It's a great plan. It even has a time-slot to research Boxing Day and get ready for that, too.

And yet, here we are. Nothing is trimmed. Nothing is decked. Nothing's even close. The aforementioned plan has flopped, deflated in a humiliating puddle like one of those giant blow-up lawn ornaments in the harsh light of Judgment Day.

This has me rethinking the plan and, with it, my overall ability to plan. I even failed at my plan to make plans.

This year, though, I think I have solved the problem:

I will not make a plan. Instead, I am making myself a promise. A few, actually. I promise I won't feel bad about myself if I don't make cookies for everyone I know, if my presents don't look professionally wrapped, and if some elements of Christmas dinner aren't from scratch. I promise that I won't get stressed out and cranky if the house isn't perfect, if the dog refuses to wear a Santa hat, or if a strand of little white twinkle lights on the tree goes dark and nobody can figure out how to get it to light up again.

There will be a tree, a special meal or two, and we will get together with people we love.

I promise to get the jack-o-lantern off the front porch before Thanksgiving, to see Eggbert, and to watch "A Christmas Story" with Bella and Chris, maybe twice.

And I promise not to panic, no matter how hard the mall tries to make me.